The Music Of Our Lives
by accioamber
Summary: A musical story basically. one song for each character. tells a relationship story too. the pairings are hameron and wuddy. starts out with a song for House. kind of sad, and i know that : R&R!
1. Vacuum Bag

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters from House, M.D. Or the song "Vacuum Bag" by Stroke 9.

A/N: Hey! Welcome to a songfic...I will be doing at least one song per character...this first one is a fic to "Vacuum Bag" by Stroke 9 to Dr. House. It's AU, and will never happen. A bit OOC, so please no flames or even reviews about how OOC it is. I'm aware of it :) lol. OK, happy reading, thanks for reading, and please R&R!

**HOUSEHOUSEHOUSE**

House sat on the couch in his apartment next to Wilson, who was having control of the remote. House wasn't fighting the fact that Wilson was watching a cooking show. He was sunk into the couch in a deep depression. He shoved back a Vicodin with a drink of whiskey.

"Probably shouldn't be drinking whiskey with Vicodin." Wilson offered from his side of the couch. He looked at House.

"Don't really care, buddy." House drained the glass. Wilson nodded.

"Yeah. I kind of figured you wouldn't."

_You'll never know what happened to me_

_It's just one of those things_

_I was sitting by myself_

_And my thoughts started pouring out_

"Look, Cameron. Allison." He lifted her chin with his fingers, made her meet his stunningly blue eyes.

"Don't say it, Greg. If you're going to say what I think you are...just don't. I love you. You love me. Isn't that what matters?"

"Allison, I... I've been thinking. Maybe we...maybe we should stop seeing each other. I don't think we're right for each other. Don't get me wrong, I...I love you. A lot. But I'm not sure if it's working out."

"Let me guess, House. You did this wonderful _thinking_ all by yourself. Probably in a dark room, or your apartment, where no one could tell you what a selfish, arrogant...WRONG asshole you're being!" She yelled, tears beginning to streak down her face.

"Yes. I was. But I'm not wrong. Maybe I'm arrogant, maybe I'm selfish, maybe I'm an asshole, but I'm not wrong. I just...started thinking, and I came to this decision. I'm sorry, Allison. It's over." He turned and left, leaving her standing in the office, alone, crying.

**HOUSEHOUSEHOUSE**

House stood up and refilled his glass of whiskey and rewound back to the memories of the good times he'd had with her.

_Remember that time on our trip_

_You asked me where we were going_

_I said Barcelona_

_You said that's not what I meant_

"Grab your suitcases. We're going somewhere. But I'm not telling you. Not unless you really want to know." House had said to Allison.

She'd smiled and twined her fingers in his for a few seconds, before he'd wrestled them away conspicuously. The smile had dropped from her face and she'd done to her room, where she'd thrown some clothes in a suitcase and put it in the back of his car.

"Greg...can you tell me something? Where are we going?"

He'd looked at her. "You really want to know?"

"Yes. I really honestly do." She'd smiled at him, that honest smile she reserved for when she really wanted to know something deep. Something that would affect her.

"Barcelona. I got us two plane tickets for the weekend. Sounds like fun, huh?" He'd asked her, waiting for the happiness and surprise to take over.

Instead she'd stared out the window and then looked back at him, her face a stormy cloud of a mix of anger and sadness.

"Greg. That's not what I meant." She looked back out the window, and as the realization hit him, about what she'd meant, he'd pressed harder on the gas petal.

_I'm like a vacuum bag that holds all that old dirt_

_Remember that time we found your mom's Valium_

_And took it?_

_Chorus:Don't hate me, don't regret me_

_Don't ever forget me_

_Wherever you go, whatever you do, _

_Don't say I never loved you_

Things in the office had been tense and strained. She would only talk to him unless she had to. She generally got her theories or thoughts across by talking to Chase, Foreman, or Wilson if he was involved. Wilson knew, of course, what had happened, but Chase had Foreman were blissfully unaware.

One day about three days after he'd broken it off he said to her, "What's the patient's sed rate?"

She'd given him nothing but a stony glare and said to Chase, "Ben's sed rate is a bit low. What could that suggest?"

House didn't like it. He didn't like her ignoring him at all. So he said, "Go run a complete blood panel."

"What for?" Foreman asked.

"Because I said so, that's what for! Just do it! Why can't any of you ever just do what you're told?" He yelled.

Foreman and Chase gave him a funny look and started off. Cameron on the other hand, said to him, "Are you done behaving like a four year old?" and then started out the door.

"Allison." He said to her retreating back. "Stop."

She paused at the door but didn't turn around. He walked over to her and placed his hand on her shoulder. "It's not like…I never loved you. Don't say that. Because I did. I do. It's just…sometimes things don't work out just the way you want them to."

"You're so full of it, so selfish." She sneered at him, anger dripping from her words.

"Allison…I couldn't bear it if you hated me. Please don't. And please…don't try and forget what we were. What we had was more than what anybody else has. Please don't forget. But I need to know something."

She turned toward him, tears in her eyes again. "What?"

"Do you regret me? Do you regret what we had?"

She looked at him with soft, sad eyes. "Greg, how could I ever regret the best thing that ever happened to me?"

_That summer when we wore no shoes  
And we danced on the Fourth of July  
And we listened to your sister's records  
And Frampton came alive_

Back in the summer, back when everything was safe and warm and loving. Allison had wanted nothing more than to dance with him.

"Come on, Greg. If you try, you can. Please…"

"No. It would hurt my leg too much." "PLEASE!" "No."

She rubbed her bare foot against his. "It would mean so much to me. I love you."

"Why does this, of all things, mean so much to you? Why?"

"Because…I don't know why. Just because."

A few weeks went by, and Allison slowly forgot. She forgot about wanting to dance with House, and concentrated on how much she loved him, despite all his faults.

And then one day, she was sitting on her back porch reading a magazine, and she heard one of her old Frampton records come to life. She looked at her back door, and saw House standing there in a suit with his special "dress up" cane.

He walked out the back door and shut it slowly. He walked over to her and bowed low. "Would you do me the honor of dancing with me?"

She nodded slowly, happily, tears springing to her eyes.

The dance between the two of them was awkward. They would go back and forth, and he would have to limp because bearing too much weight on his bad leg would make it throb angrily. But then he would see her smiling, so happy, and he would forget anything that was hurting him. He was wrapped up in just being there with her.

Later that night, they sat on the bench in her backyard, him holding her, watching the Fourth of July fireworks go up in the sky.

_Even then you knew what you wanted  
Even then I had no clue  
I was just living in the moment  
And the moment was all about you _

That night beneath the stars, watching the sky being lit up by splashes of blue and pink and green, she said, "I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I know it. Right now, at this moment, I can feel it. I've never loved anybody else like this." She looked at him, sitting there so solemnly. "What about you?"

"What do you mean, what about me?"

"I mean, don't you know what you want?"

"I never know what I want." He whispered to her, and she giggled.

"No, Greg, be serious. Don't you want to spend the rest of your life with me? Don't you love me the same way I love you?"

"Allison, of course I love you. But…I mean it. I don't know what I want. I'm living for right now, not for…right _then_. I'm living for you. I'm living in the moment."

"Fine. If you're not sure…whatever."

House rolled his eyes. It was just like her to get upset over nothing.

_Remember that time in LA  
You asked we what we were doing  
I said we're doing fine  
You said here we go again_

Three months later, they were at a symposium in LA. They were leaving the meeting hall, and as they got into a taxi, Allison turned to him and said, slipping her hand in his, "What are we doing?"

This time, Greg didn't miss a beat. "We're doing fine. Just fine. I love you, and you love me, and that's all that matters."

"Here we go again. You misunderstanding me. Honestly, we are just not the best communicators in the world." She grinned and giggled, and he rolled his eyes.

"What you mean we? I communicate just_ fine_, it's you who's all mixed up!"

She laughed again.

_I'm like a vacuum bag  
That holds all that old dirt  
Remember that time we said we'd be together forever?_

Two months later, they were sitting in his apartment, watching the snow fly. They were warming their feet by the fire and their hands on mugs of hot cocoa.

She nestled her head on his shoulder and murmured in his ear, as she was falling asleep, "Greg. We'll be together forever, won't we?"

Not wanting to upset her, even though he wasn't sure, he whispered to her, "Of course. Of course." He kissed her hair. He wasn't sure, but he thought her say, "Everybody lies."

_Chorus_

_'Cause it matters to me  
Can you hear me?  
Everyday I ask the same thing _

Will you ever know what happened to me?  
It happens everyday  
And you wonder what went on  
It's there and then it's gone

House came back from the past with Wilson shaking his shoulder, telling him to get up and go to bed if he was so damn tired.

Would Allison ever truly know what had gone on inside his head that day? The day he decided to end it with her. The day his whole life had really fallen apart.

It was best. He was sure. But he would miss her. _But it __was__ best._

_Maybe I'm sentimental  
And I start to reminisce  
And every time I do  
I still want to tell you this…_

_Chorus_

A/N: What do you think? R&R!


	2. Used To

Disclaimer: I don't own House, M.D. Or "Used To" by Daughtry.

A/N: This is from Cameron's POV, after House has broken up with her…R&R please. OOC sometimes, but that's the way it goes. No flames please. AU.

HOUSEHOUSEHOUSE

Allison curled her legs up underneath her and cried. Just…cried. She missed him. She missed him so much. Everything about him had been everything she wanted and needed. She looked out the window, and wondered if right now he was looking out a window in his own apartment and thinking about her.

_You used to talk to me like  
I was the only one around.  
You used to lean on me like  
The only other choice was falling down._

He was wrapped up in her. She could see it in his eyes, in the way he tilted his head when she talked, the way he smiled when she laughed, the way he held her when she cried.

He would talk to her about anything, and when they were together…he would talk to her like nobody else was there. In the office, differential diagnoses had been known to be discussed just between the two of them, while an angry Chase and a disgusted Foreman just sat there.

Then there was the time she got the news from home that her dad was sick. He had leukemia. She'd taken the phone call, promised her mom she'd be on a flight out ASAP, wiped her eyes, and returned to the office.

"So nice of you to join us," House sneered, mainly for show for the other two, but then he saw the look on her face. "Something wrong, Cameron?"

The boys ignored it and Chase said, "Could be epilepsy or a seizure disorder."

House, on the other hand, got up and moved towards her. "Allison, what's the matter?" he tilted her chin up with his fingers and saw her pretty brown eyes filled with tears. "Are you ok?" he hugged her close to him. She cried on his shoulder, and he talked her through it, all while Chase and Foreman continued the differential.

_You used to walk with me like  
We had nowhere we needed to go,  
Nice and slow, to no place in particular._

And those times they had walked in the park, or down the street, or even in the hospital corridors. He would walk next to her, and she would be on his left side, the side without the cane. And they walked slowly, as if it didn't matter, as if nothing mattered.

Her hand would wander up to his, and she'd tuck her small fingers in between his larger ones, and squeeze tightly. And he would squeeze back. She knew that things were…changing, when he didn't squeeze back.

_Chorus: We used to have this figured out;  
We used to breathe without a doubt.  
When nights were clear, you were the first star that I'd see._

They did used to have everything figured out. They knew they both loved each other. They both knew that _that_ was what mattered. She knew that he wasn't as…sure of their future as he was. She also knew that he didn't like to think about those kinds of things, so she didn't press it.

She used to wake up…happy in the mornings. She was _absolutely_ sure he did, too. The knowledge that in a few hours she would see the man she loved would fill her with happiness. The fact that they both knew what they were doing and that they belonged together, at least at the moment, let her breathe easier than she had in a long time.

She was wrong.

_Chorus: We used to have this under control.  
We never thought.  
We used to know.  
At least there's you, and at least there's me.  
Can we get this back?  
Can we get this back to how it used to be?_

"Oh, no. Oh, please, Greg, no." she'd begged. "No. Don't say it, Greg. If you're going to say what I think you are...just don't. I love you. You love me. Isn't that what matters?"

But it didn't matter. At least not to him. She wanted him back. She wanted the happiness, the sheer happiness that came from knowing she was with him. It was true: she hadn't ever thought about whether the two of them together was right or not. She'd known. She'd known it was. Why had he screwed it up? She questioned now, crying. _Why?_

_I used to reach for you when  
I got lost along the way.  
I used to listen.  
You always had just the right thing to say._

Whenever things got rough, or hard, he had been the person she went to. When she was tired, or angry, or sad, he was the ever understanding person. He always had the exactly perfect thing to say to make any horrible situation better.

He'd proved to her that he could change. He was still the snarky, angry, misanthropic man she and everyone else knew (and, ok, loved). But he had changed when it came to being able to care about another person. Until he'd also proved that he couldn't stay the same forever.

_I used to follow you.  
Never really cared where we would go,   
Fast or slow, to anywhere at all._

She never cared where they would go, what they would do, or who they would see. She never cared about the bad qualities in him, because she was too wrapped up in the good ones. She let him make decisions, and never cared about what they were. _He had been enough_. _Boy, was that ever stupid_, she thought to herself now.

"House…Greg…" she cried, spitting out his name in a combination of anger, fear, and sadness. "I miss you!" Tears came at an alarmingly fast rate, and she pounded her leg with her fist. "What did I do wrong, huh? Please, tell me, what did I do wrong?"

She heard a knock on the door. She quickly dried her tears with her hands and opened the door, sniffing.

"Allison. You did _absolutely nothing_ wrong. I am so sorry. So sorry. I'm stupid." Gregory House wrapped his arms around Allison and hugged her tight, kissing the top of her head and whispering in her ear things she couldn't hear over the pounding of her heart and her brain telling her that it couldn't possibly be true.

But it was.

_Chorus_

_I look around me,  
And I want you to be there  
'Cause I miss the things that we shared.  
Look around you.  
It's empty, and you're sad  
'Cause you miss the love that we had._

_Chorus_

"Oh, you're here. You're here." He nodded and they sat down on the couch together. She laid her head on his shoulder and smelled his shirt. He smelled…good. Clean. He smelled like, well, to her, he smelled like security. Like the person she could, and would, be with forever. "You're not going anywhere, are you?"

"Nope. Not anymore." He kissed her, on the lips this time, and said, "I promise."

HOUSEHOUSEHOUSE 

A/N: So, this one was a fair bit happier. R&R:) 


	3. Better Than Me

Disclaimer: I don't own House, M.D. or "Better Than Me" by Hinder.

A/N: This is Wilson's. AU. Wilson owns a house! Yayyy lol :P R&&R.

HOUSEHOUSEHOUSE 

James Wilson hung his jacket up on the hook beside the door. _Lisa hung that up, _he thought "There. Now you don't have to hang your coat up in the closet every time." Hug and a smile. Kiss. He sighed and leaned against the closed front door.

There's the vodka. There's the glass. There's the ice. He held it and drained half of the glass, sick about losing her. _At least this time_, he thought, _at least this time I was smart enough to make the break before losing her_. Before having her leave meWilson thought back to those first few days without her.

_I think you can do much better than me  
After all the lies that I made you believe_

He holds her on the couch. He is distracted that night. He is distracted as he holds her, and whispers "I love you," in her ear. She whispers "I love you more," back in his own ear, and watches the TV, which is turned up loud.

"Lisa," he says, clicking the remote and turning the TV off.

She faces him and says, "What's the matter, James?" Her face is puzzled.

The only thought that is running through Wilson's mind at that moment is that he's been lying to her. Lying to her for far too long. "Lisa…I've been lying to you."

Her features on her beautiful face harden a little. "What do you mean?"

Silence from Wilson's end.

"James. What have you been lying about? What?" she shifts in his arms a bit.

His arms are still around her, but he toys with his wedding band. Gold, and it matches Lisa's. She picked them out. She was so happy that day. Happier than she would be in a few minutes. Hell, she would be happier dealing with House trying to get her to sign off on some outrageous treatment.

She watches him playing with the wedding band, and says, "James? Is it…someone else? James." She stares at him.

He meets her eyes. He doesn't nod, he doesn't shake his head, he doesn't scream, "How could you even think something like that? I love you, Lisa, I love you and I would never do that to you!" (Which is what she wants him to do.) But he meets her eyes.

She wrenches out of his grip and stares at him in a mixed expression of grief, wild anger, and disbelief.

"You deserve…so much better than me." He tells her quietly, sadness in his eyes. "I want a divorce." He stands up from the couch and goes into their bedroom. Not their bedroom anymore.

The next morning, he finds half of her clothes and a few other things gone, and her gold wedding band that matches his on top of the dresser, next to his watch.

_Guilt kicks in and I start to see  
The edge of the bed  
Where your nightgown used to be_

That morning, when he found the wedding ring. He told himself all night long that he wouldn't feel guilty. He was doing the right thing, he was only looking out for her.

But then he sees that wedding ring, and he realizes that he should feel guilty for lying to her. His relationship with Lisa was great. Why had he messed it up?

But it wasn't like it was for nothing! He loved Jenny, the…oh, god, the nurse he'd been sleeping with. They were in love, and both Lisa and Jenny wanted him. He needs something fresh, something new. And Jenny is that.

He gets in the shower that morning and changes into his slacks, and a clean and freshly pressed shirt. He puts on his belt and tucks his shirt into his pants. Then he sits on the left edge of the bed. It was a habit. Lisa's nightgown always occupies the right side, and she doesn't like when he sits on it.

"Why? It's just a nightgown, doesn't matter if it gets wrinkled or anything!" he'd protested to her dozens of times.

"I don't know why, James, I just don't like it."

So for the past two years that they'd been married, he's avoided sitting on the right side of the bed when he puts his socks and shoes on every morning. Always the left. It's then, that moment, when he first notices that Lisa's nightgown is gone. He feels that now familiar pang of guilt.

_Chorus: I told myself I won't miss you  
But I remember  
What it feels like beside you_

At the hospital that first day. House sees him in the hallway and pounces on him like the annoyance that he is. "Hey, Jimmy. Been waiting for you. I want breakfast."

"Then go buy yourself some!" Wilson snaps, opening the door to his office just enough for himself to fit through and slams the door. He can almost see House's bemused expression, half wondering what's wrong with Wilson, and half wondering if he was going to get his breakfast anytime soon.

Now there's a guilt there for making House (possibly) feel bad. He shouldn't have yelled at him, he thinks. All he wanted was breakfast. And why shouldn't Wilson assume that House had bought his own hooker last night and ergo couldn't afford breakfast this morning?

The guilt gnawing away at him, Wilson turns and opens the door to go to House's office, but House is still standing there.

"Breakfast?" he questions eagerly, like a four year old.

"Sure. Come on."

"Fine. If you insist. But you're buying." House says in mock humbleness, limping beside Wilson.

After they purchase their omelet's and hash browns and are seated at a table, House says, "OK, spill it. What's eating at you?"

It bursts out of Wilson like a dam letting loose. "I told Lisa yesterday that I want a divorce. Her stuff was gone this morning."

House pauses in shoveling in his omelets to mutter an "Oh." House never was one to take an active interest in anybody's personal life. Including his own.

"I won't miss her. I have to promise myself I won't. I mean, I've got Jenny, right? Why should I miss the person I broke it off with when I have the person I broke it off for?"

"Dude. That was way too complicated for me. Did you understand it? And that…all that, was a total crock of shit. You miss her. I can see it."

"Same way you missed Allison?" Wilson mutters.

"Hey, if you want to stay with Jane, or June or whatever her name is, I'd shut up about all the Allison talk. I went back with her. You don't want back with Cuddy, right? I always said that was a doomed relationship. The marriage, well I was sure of that. You can _never_ stay in a marriage." House points his fork at Wilson and keeps eating.

_Chorus: I really miss your hair in my face  
And the way your innocence tastes  
And I think you should know this  
You deserve much better than me_

At home, that first night. He lies in bed and stares at the ceiling.

Just a few days ago…she had lain next him. Her head on his chest. Her thick mass of dark brown curls in his face.

She was so innocent and trusting, and perfect. He loved how, even though she was 38 years old, she was still as innocent as a five year old sometimes.

"You deserve…so much better than me." She didn't deserve a cheater, a liar, a deceiver. She didn't deserve someone who would so obviously only bring her pain and unhappiness. She deserved someone who would love her, and make everything worthwhile. And all her marriage dreams come true.

_While looking through your old box of notes  
I found those pictures I took  
That you were looking for_

James sipped his vodka and thought about Lisa. As the memories came and went in his mind, he remembered her Box. He got up and went to the kitchen.

The big wooden chest in the corner of the kitchen held all of their recipes, cook books, and various expensive cookware. The cupboard underneath it was where Lisa had kept her Box.

Every time something important happened, or she was watching a TV show, or just sitting around and musing, and something came to her, she would write it down and stick it in her Box. It was a big cherry wood box, about the size of a large fat shoe box, and it was filled to the brim with pieces of paper, scraps of paper, business cards, index cards, any type of paper, that had Lisa's old familiar scrawl on it.

Some of it was things about the hospital that had occurred to her. Some of it was just ideas for a story she might be writing. Lisa often used writing as an 'emotional outlet'. Some of it was just Things To Do lists that had been stuffed in there to finish later. The Box was cluttered with little notes and reminders that had been stuffed in there and never looked at again.

"You wouldn't think a hospital administrator would be so messy…" Wilson muttered. He sorted through the mess, reveling in the Lisa-ness of it all. But that was her; messy about some things, clean about others. And he loved it about her.

As he pawed through the box, he found the pictures. It was the ones from the lake. Him and Lisa. And House and Allison. He was absent from most of the pictures, having been the taker. He flipped through them and smiled. Allison throwing sand at House. House pretending to lunge at her. Lisa and Allison sunbathing. House listening to his iPod. House throwing a rock at the camera. Wilson and House talking. House and Allison holding each other lovingly. And finally…Wilson and Lisa, wrapped in a hug with looks of happiness splattered all over their faces. Staring into each other's eyes. Grinning. Then the next picture was them kissing.

He slammed the photos down into the box angrily. These were them. These were the photos Lisa had been looking for. If she'd just taken twenty minutes and cleaned out the damn box, she would've found them.

He remembered her slamming things around angrily because she couldn't find the pictures. "Damn it!" she muttered, slamming the cupboard angrily.

"What's the matter? What can't you find?" James had asked her warily. He hated when she got angry.

"Those damn pictures we took at the lake. You know, the one's with House and Cameron?"

Too bad it was a little too late to hand her those pictures.

_If there's one memory I don't want to lose  
That time at the mall  
You and me in the dressing room_

Wilson slid the box slowly back underneath the cupboard and shut the door. More like slammed it. A stray receipt from the box fluttered to the floor. It was from Bonham's in Chicago, a huge retail store. When they'd gone to the symposium there about seven months ago, Lisa had insisted they stop there.

Wilson chuckled to himself. He'd wanted to "get his freak on", using House's language, not his own. "Come on, Lisa. Can't it wait till later?"

"James…we're not coming back this way. It's a waste not to stop right now. Not that I don't…want to." She smiled suggestively. "But I wanna shop at Bonham's too. Just an hour. I promise. You can go and look at the cookware."

He nodded glumly, but an idea occurred to him when he was waiting outside the dressing room for her. The _unattended_ dressing room.

He slipped through the door and looked underneath all the doors. He saw Lisa's purse sitting on the floor. He stopped outside of it and knocked. "Occupied." She said in an annoyed voice.

Wilson knocked again. "OCCUPIED."

Again. "I said OCCUPIED!"

Grinning to himself, he knocked once more. He heard rustling. Suddenly Lisa's head poked out. "Listen, you clown, I said it was occupied!" She saw Wilson, and he squeezed past her and she laughed.

Quietly he said, "I'm pretty sure these things hold two."

A half an hour later, someone knocked on the door.

"OCCUPIED!" Their two voices rang out. "Oh, shit." Wilson whispered.

They ran out of the dressing rooms together, laughing.

Wilson chuckled and said out loud, "That's something I don't think either of us will ever forget."

_Chorus_

_The bed I'm lying in is getting colder  
Wish I never would've said it's over  
And I can't pretend... I won't think about you when I'm older  
Cause we never really had our closure  
This can't be the end_

_Chorus x2_

Wilson changed into a white shirt that showed his slim physique and a pair of blue plaid pajama pants. He slipped into bed and eyed her side of the bed. It had been almost two months. And he still couldn't get her out of his mind. Couldn't get the thoughts out that maybe…he was making the wrong decision.

After all, he'd broken it off with Jenny a month ago. What was Lisa doing right now? Did she miss him? Or did she want him back? She couldn't pretend that she would never think about him again. If it was hard for him to let go, he couldn't even imagine what she was going through.

They'd never had closure. Just a broken off relationship and papers in the mail that signaled the end of what he'd thought would be The Relationship.

Wilson buried his face in his pillow and did what he did every night. He closed his eyes and tried to enter the world of dreams, where everything was perfect again with him and Lisa.

HOUSEHOUSEHOUSE 

R&R please! Sad, I know. But I love this song.


End file.
